


Games

by belovedmuerto



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, a dinner, a game, empath!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 21:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock play a bit of a game while out to eat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettyArbitrary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyArbitrary/gifts).



> From a prompt from PrettyArbitrary, who wanted John doing a little emotional deducing. Thanks to her, it's nearly double its original length, and better than it was when it started.
> 
> This isn't precisely "next" as far as timeline goes.

“All right, her. The woman directly behind you.”

John’s chopsticks pause, midway to his mouth, and he blinks at the man sat across the table from him. He gives a brief nod, and continues his aborted action, finishing the bite of rice and beef before he turns his mind to the woman behind him. 

A caress, a quick brush along the myriad shining threads of the net that binds them, and John realizes that Sherlock has distanced himself, taken a step back into his own head. He does that when he wants John to play this game; he feels like it would be cheating if he used the emotional information he gets from sharing in John’s empathy to aid his deductions. It doesn’t entirely eliminate the bleed-through, but it lessens it. Sherlock has already drawn his conclusions, seen and observed and deduced; it’s up to John to prove him right (most likely) or wrong (only occasionally).

And this is a game. It’s one they’ve played since very early on, only now John is able to participate as well, instead of only marveling at Sherlock’s genius. It puts them on more equal footing, in some ways; they each have their strength. John loves it, that he can hold his own, that Sherlock waits for his conclusions, wants to hear them. He loves that look Sherlock gives him, the slightly widened eyes, lips parted in surprise. John is not only a conductor of light, when they play this game. Now, he gets to entertain Sherlock sometimes, when Sherlock wants him to, when he doesn’t want to show off, when he’s feeling mischievous, flush from the success of a solved case. Sherlock marvels at him for a few moments, and John drinks it in. 

The rules are different for John, though. He doesn’t need to observe in order to deduce, so he isn’t allowed to.

John doesn’t look at her; he takes another bite of his delicious dinner, savoring the flavors on his tongue as he turns his mind to the woman seated at the table behind him. He shuts his eyes to aid his concentration. 

There’s a lot of love between the two of them, but it’s divided. No, it’s thirded, there are three of them, and their third is waiting for them. It’s fascinating and warm and complete, and John finds himself momentarily jealous of their happiness and acceptance of each other.

“She’s here with... one of her two lovers,” John says quietly, after a moment, after he swallows.

Sherlock’s brows lift.

“They’re celebrating, an anniversary of some sort.”

“Go on.” This is neither confirmation nor denial that he’s right.

“They’re--” John flushes. It’s different than the warmth of their regard for each other. It’s hot and heavy, sharp gasps and dirty thoughts and images. He can almost see them, can almost see the things they’re discussing in low voices that must be rough with lust.

“They’re planning what they’re going to do to their girlfriend when they get home. It’s--” John’s flush deepens, and Sherlock’s cheeks go pink with the force of the desire that the two people are feeling; it shivers its way down his spine, a pale echo of the way John feels for him, the way he feels for John. John feels it settle, low in his gut, in Sherlock’s, both of them feeling it equally, pulsing slowly, warming their blood, seeping into their veins.

Their food is forgotten momentarily while they stare at each other, caught up in it. 

John is the one to break the gaze, clearing his throat and looking at his plate. After a moment, he chuckles.

Sherlock continues to stare at his John; all John can concentrate on under his intense stare is the throb of arousal between them. It has Sherlock feeling warm, languid. His physical appetite is gone. His pupils are dilated. John has to blink a few times to extricate himself from Sherlock’s head-space, to settle back into his own head so he’s not feeling everything in echoes, doubled as it flows back and forth between them.

“What?” Sherlock asks, voice rough and low. He clears his throat.

“They’re debating us now.” John’s pretty sure they are, anyway. The anticipation between them has changed, colored by their flirting conversation, their enjoyment of their meal, the mock-innocent looks they’re throwing back and forth. It’s overlaid with a lively sense of speculation and mirth.

Sherlock looks away from John’s deep blue eyes, casts a quick glance at the other table before returning his eyes to John. “Are they?”

John nods. He knows how this feels very well by this point, he’s well used to speculation about him and Sherlock. There’s the curiosity, the lewdness behind the ‘I reckon they’re shagging’ thoughts. He can feel their eyes on him, their thoughts on both him and Sherlock. He can just about give voice to their thoughts, he’s felt them so many times, the shape of them is almost comforting in its familiarity. And easier to deal with now than they used to be; both he and Sherlock are far more comfortable in their bond, in their relationship than they once were.

“They’re debating whether we’re just mates or more.”

Sherlock smiles.

“She wouldn’t mind taking one of us home with them.” John grins at Sherlock, because he knows that the woman doesn’t mean “one of us”, she means “Sherlock”. “She thinks their girlfriend would enjoy it, too.”

“I don’t share, John.” The look that Sherlock gives him could smelt iron.

John is pretty sure that just eliminated all debate between the couple behind them about the nature of their relationship. He grins across the table at his bond-mate (he’s starting to like that term). “Neither do I.”


End file.
